


Presbyopia

by blcwriter



Category: Star Trek (2009)
Genre: Chris Pine looks too cute in glasses, M/M, Scotty's more devious than most people give credit for, did I mention the glasses, glasses porn, smart!Kirk kink, spurious misuse of medical terms
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-01-08
Updated: 2010-01-08
Packaged: 2017-11-07 18:11:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,127
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/433928
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blcwriter/pseuds/blcwriter
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>  Jim gets glasses, but it's Bones who has a change in perspective.  the_dala, I might have made you a certain sandwich as well.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Presbyopia

Originally posted for Team Jones, the community for the Kirk/McCoy team for Ship Wars-- but I thought I'd share with you here.  Our Chief Engineer, weepingnaiad posted [this pic](http://community.livejournal.com/team_jones/331.html#cutid1) (see the icon that goes with this post) to bring us all cheer and inspiration. 

I was inspired.  I wrote fic.  And you, gentle reader, should be so inspired that you should ... come join team Jones!  (Yes, I'm relentless.  And a little bit mad.  Enjoy the fic anyway.)  


Summary:  Jim gets glasses, but it's Bones who has a change in perspective.  the_dala, I might have made you a certain sandwich as well.

\--

Jim was halfway into the lift when a hand gripped his upper arm.

"You.  Sickbay.  Now."

"Wha?"

He hadn't seen the hand coming because he'd been rubbing his eyes, which, truth be told, he'd been doing a lot.  It wasn't really surprising, a Captain's work never stopped.  He sometimes felt like his quarters were more PADDs than actual furniture.

"You, headache boy, Sickbay.  Right _now,_ this will only take a half hour, _"_ Bones said, glaring as he shoved Jim into the lift and Jim looked back onto the bridge, trying to decide which of his officers had ratted him out.  Unsurprisingly, everyone was avoiding his eyes.

"Cowards," he said.  Loudly.

Spock flinched.

Hah.  He _knew_ it was the pointy-eared bastard.

\--

"Just-- hold still, damnit, I'm a physician, not a damned opthalmologist."

"Why don't we have a damned opthalmologist, then?" Jim said, as Bones un-gently shoved Jim's face back into the almost medieval-looking eye-examining device.  The twenty-third century, and they were still using something that looked like it was right out of one of those steampunk vids of the twenty-first century.  The small exam room was cold, dark, and the machine smelled like old metal.  Jim didn't like it at all.  Plus, he couldn't really see the whole bottom half of the eye chart on the opposite wall.

"The one assigned to the ship died during the _Narada_ attack and we never got a replacement.  There weren't a lot enlisted to start," Bones said, then glared at Jim when he pulled away once again.  "Hold still while I open the damned manual."

"The manual!?"

Jim was out of the chair and half way across the Sickbay floor before Bones caught up. 

"Jim."

"No."

"You've been squinting at your PADDs for three point four weeks, the hobgoblin says.  And Janice says your handwriting's even more atrocious than usual.  Uhura says you're sneaking analgesics in your ready room." 

They were all bloody cowards.  He was still blaming it all on Spock, though, he was the one who called Bones.  If the ship blew up tomorrow, he'd only save Chekov and Sulu and Scotty, that was all there was to it.

"You don't even know how to work the diagnostic machine!"  Jim's arms might have flailed.  Just a little.  He thought he had a good reason.

"If you'd just sit still long enough for me to read the damn manual!"  Bones jabbed his hypospray in Jim's general direction.  He wasn't too proud to dodge back a step.  A few nurses and orderlies also moved out of the way.

While they argued, activity in the main bay ground to a halt-- for once, people's expressions seemed to reflect that Jim might be right to refuse medical treatment. 

Jim stared at Bones as the doctor scowled back, and it was clear that while Bones was pissed, he really _was_ worried-- and Jim's head did kind of hurt and his eyes were kind of blurry when he read some these days.  He offered a kind of a compromise.

"You're a medical genius.  Figure out if there's a CMO supplement for the opthalmology board, I don't really care-- but figure out how to work the stupid machine or it's going to have to wait for the next Starbase stopover and I'll see someone there.  We're going to be mapping stars for the next three weeks or so, it's not like there'll be anything else going on." Jim said ungraciously, but that was them, snarls and prickles and pains in each others' asses until the day that they died.  That, and Jim threatening to entrust his medical care to somebody else.

He could actually hear Chapel whisper "Oh yes he _did"_ to Geoffrey M'Benga.  If it totally wouldn't hurt Bones' feelings, he'd snicker a little.  Chris and Geoff were such gossips sometimes.

He turned around in time for a bottle of aspirin to hit him in the back of the head and bounce out into the hall.  "Don't take those on a goddamned empty stomach, Janice said you skipped lunch, you little shit!" he yelled as the pneumatic doors hissed shut.

Jim ignored the throb in his head as he picked up the bottle and sighed.  If it was anyone besides Bones, he'd chalk that fight up to foreplay.  Alas, though, it was Bones, the one man impervious to his charm.

Oh well-- someone had put up with his shit.  He couldn't be greedy and expect to get sex and love out of the deal on top of everything else.

\--

Bones mostly stayed out of his way for two weeks, scowling at him from over a PADD in the mess and occasionally stalking onto the bridge in order to silently and roughly punch up the resolution on Jim's PADD screen whenever he caught Jim reading, never mind that Jim had already made the adjustment himself.  The whole bridge crew nearly cringed out of both of their ways, especially Spock, who apparently realized that meddling in the (non)affairs of a Captain and his Chief Medical Officer was not a matter for the fainthearted. 

The Vulcan finally broke one day not long after Bones stalked onto the bridge and into Jim's ready room with a covered cup of Jim's favorite fire-roasted tomato bisque and unleashed a string of profanity about one of his nurses getting ill from personal stress so long and uninterrupted that even the unflappable Sulu looked a little embarrassed.

"So.  Make her take a couple of personal days and tell her to get a massage, if you need me to make it an order I will," Jim said, then punched up the resolution on the screen of the proposed modifications to the engine schematics Scotty had sent.

"That simple, hunh, Captain Obvious?"  Bones' forehead was all frownlines, his mouth all dragged down.

Jim shrugged and resisted the urge to rub his own forehead in sympathy.

"Oh, fuck you, Jim," Bones said, stomping off to the lift. 

Spock appeared in his doorway thirteen seconds later.  "Captain, I believe I owe you an apology."

Jim flapped his hand, then picked up his soup and started to sip.  "Nah.  You were probably right.  But ... Bones hates taking boards, hates the studying involved for that shit, and even though he could probably pass them right now with one hand tied behind his back, he's got to work himself into this state where this vein twitches over his right eye and he hasn't shaved for a week before _he_ thinks he's ready."

Spock looked doubtful.  "The doctor seems rather distressed."

Jim sighed, then looked at his First.  "Everyone's got their thing.  Uhura's got to know every language and solve the crossword puzzle in less than an hour.  Sulu likes to go fast and land on a dime and blow shit to smithereens.  Chekov does math in nanoseconds and everything's invented in Russia.  Scotty bends the laws of physics on a regular basis.  You have your maximum efficiency and peak output thing.  Bones likes to be able to fix stuff right then and there.  It pisses him off when he has to wait.  And as much as I trust him, I'm not letting him play with my eyeballs until he's a hundred percent sure he knows what he's doing."

Spock nodded.  "Your assessment is logical and comprehensive."  Jim punched the comm. 

"Kirk to Scott."

"Aye, Cap'n."

"Scotty, anything you got going on down there with any superficial scrapes or burns you need tending?  Oh, by the way, I think you're being a little conservative on Warp Engine A.  You could tweak it another three, four percent."

There was a pause.

"Ah.  Aye."  Scotty sounded pleased.  Very pleased.  "Doc hasn't taken that test yet, has he?"

Kirk rolled his eyes.  The gossip of his and Bones' fight was all over the ship, and there wasn't much he could do to curb the chatter, not with so little excitement to divert people's attention.  Spock still looked sympathetic-- it kind of made Jim a little uneasy.  Bones wasn't that grumpy, was he? 

"No.  Test's the day after tomorrow."

"Oi!  Keenser!  Bring me that 'ammer!  No!  The one on your right!  Your other right!"

Spock's eyebrow arched as Jim put his hand over his mouth to stifle a laugh.  There was a thunk as Scotty grunted, said "Ooowwee, lookit that, I done dropped an 'ammer on me dammed foot, better get me arse off to Sickbay an' get that checked out, yes I should, shouldn't I," and signed off without further ado.

"See?  All set.  Now Bones has something to fix."  Jim sipped his soup and punched up the resolution on the schematics again. 

"Fascinating."

Jim looked up from his soup.  "What?"

"You appear to also have your thing, as you say."

Jim felt his eyebrows go up, nowhere near as communicative as Spock or Bones', of course, but he had his ways.

"You endeavor to make every one of your crew happy."

Jim shrugged.  "Of course.  Every Captain wants to make their crew happy."

Spock seemed poised to make some response when there was some call from Chekov out on the bridge.  Jim waved a hand, then went back to his schematics as he rubbed a hand over his forehead.  Maybe even five or six percent, if they tweaked the subroutine on the inertial dampeners...

\--

Jim was sprinkling brown sugar over his oatmeal and getting ready to pour on some cream when Bones thumped into the chair opposite. 

"Jesus, Jim, why not just go into insulin shock right now and save me the time," he groused, snatching the sugar container.

Jim arched an eyebrow.  While Bones had been studying, Jim'd had a lot more time to share meals with Spock-- he was _almost_ there with the eyebrow.

"Careful there, Bones.  You've either got to have gotten your test results back early or you're going to have to stick your finger all the way into my breakfast before you can feel any oats," Jim said, mouth quirking in amusement at the terrible joke.

Bones did his best to keep a straight face, but he was still tired from the self-imposed work.  "Little shit," he scowled around what was clearly a chuckle, shaking the sugar over the top of his grilled grapefruit and bacon, a combination Jim thought was vile.  And Bones made fun of his Nutella and banana sandwiches when he was sick ...

"How's Scotty's foot?" he asked as he poured on his cream.

"Fine," Bones replied, in between bites of his bacon.  "I'll never understand how the man's such a klutz.  He never gets burned or cut up like the other Engineers on his crew, but he bumps into shit, drops stuff and falls like I've never seen.  I've checked him over for inner ear imbalances and neurological stuff six ways to Sunday but he always checks out."

Jim shrugged.  "Mysteries of life, Bones.  Kind of like how Chekov's always perky."

Bones rolled his eyes.  "Tell me about it.  One of these days we'll figure out something that'll get him all pissy.  It'll be mean, but no one ever said I was a saint."

Jim snickered.  "Just make sure it's not too bad, or Sulu'll skewer you with that katana and I'm not so sure even I could save you when it comes to anything that bothers his Chekov."

Bones raised an eyebrow.  " _His_ Chekov?"

Jim nearly choked on his oatmeal, but managed to swallow.  "Um.  Yeah.  They're dating.  You mean that fact escaped you?"

Bones looked like he'd been hit in the head with a board.  "What?  How long?"

Jim shook his head.  This-- well-- it was so funny he wasn't going to cry.  He always knew Bones was clueless but this was taking the cake.

"Um.  They went and did it in a supply closet in the hall outside the transporter room right after Chekov retrieved us from Vulcan.  They'd been buddies up to that point, I gather, but that whole ' _you saved me from crashing into a planet_ ' thing kind of resolved all the unresolved sexual tension."

"The kid's seventeen!" Bones said, turning purple.  "Sulu's twenty one!  He's four years older than him, for Christ's sake."

Jim very calmly did not throw his cereal bowl or his cream or the sugar, and he did not curl up under the table and sing himself the Soft Kitty song until he felt better.  He was twenty-six years old and had a ship to run, damnit.  Soft Kitty could wait.

"He's old enough to enlist, phaser qualify and go on away missions, he can give it to my pilot up the ass all he wants, it's only their business, not mine." Jim said testily, gathering his things on his tray.  "And yes, I happen to know with a little more detail that even I'd have liked to imagine what goes on during gamma shift in my chair.  Thank heavens the thing is self cleaning."

Bones' jaw dropped wide open, his citrus and pork products cooling and forgotten.  "They fucked in your chair?"

Jim rolled his eyes.  "Everybody wants to fuck in the chair, Bonesy.  It's a fetish, an object of power."

"Where you going?" Bones asked as Jim stood.  "You haven't finished your breakfast."

Jim, recalling the look of disgust on the doctor's face as he'd turned purple and protested "four years!" shook his head.  "Something didn't agree with me.  I'm going to start my shift early.  Maybe later I'll have a banana or something."

Bones looked sympathetic.  "It's all that sugar and cream.  I'm telling you, Jim, I don't care that you never gain weight, all that fat and sugar's bound to catch up with you."

Jim put on a smile for his friend.  "Yeah, Bones.  That must be it."

The doctor smiled back, appeased.  "Lunch?"

Jim smiled again.  "Sure."  His stomach would stop churning by then.

\--

He got the message coded from Starfleet Command that Bones was now an opthalmologist, too-- though he wasn't supposed to do eye surgery without a live feed the first dozen times.  That was bullshit, Bones was an excellent surgeon and if he could reattach gonads and Andorian antennae-- both of which he'd already done-- he could do the same thing for eyeballs so far as Jim was concerned.  It was the beginning of beta when he got the news, and he shunted the message to Janice to docket with the senior officer's personnel files, all the while counting down in his head how long it would take Bones to arrive on the bridge. 

"Four, three, two," he said under his breath, looking up just as Bones walked through the doorway, steely determination in every aspect of his body.  "So, if you're a certified shrink and a physician and an opthalmologist and a pathologist too, do I have to call you doctor four times or can I still call you Bones or do I have to start calling you Quatro or something?"

Bones had clearly gotten some sleep under his belt-- he was back to looking grumpy, well-rested and studly, not grumpy, tired and studly.  "You're stalling," he said, barely missing a beat.

"Do you know how to run the machine without using the manual?"  Jim asked, turning to his screen just long enough to save his work and close out the most classified documents.

Bones' "Of course" was practically growled.

Jim was already out of his chair.  "Cool.  Well, let's get this show on the road."  He crossed the bridge and was almost all the way into the lift before Bones caught up again. 

"Come on, Bones.  We gonna do this or not?"

"Brat," Bones huffed, crossing his arms.  He didn't look at or speak to Jim all the rest of the trip down to Sickbay, which was just fine with Jim-- Bones was wearing the cargos, not the usual everyday black pants, and the pockets made his ass look all kinds of hot. 

Jim used the silence to concentrate on getting himself under control after several weeks of not having his best friend to ogle, heckle, and otherwise spend time with on a regular basis.  Rather than stare at Bones' ass some more in those pants-- really, he ought to give Bones demerits for not doing his laundry, the cargos were supposed to be for planetside missions, not ship wear-- he led the way into Sickbay, smiling and nodding as he found the small exam room from which he'd beaten such a hasty retreat the last time.

He still couldn't see the bottom lines on the damn chart on the opposite wall.  If anything, they were even more blurry.

But Bones clearly knew how to work the machine.

The problem with eye exams, Jim suddenly recalled, was that the doctor was _right there_ doing that thing with the little flippy contraptions in the machine the whole time-- which meant he could smell Bones' aftershave and feel the warmth radiating off of his body.  Screw Vulcans-- Bones gave off heat like a furnace, something Jim had noticed on more than occasion when they'd been drinking or just hanging out.  Bones liked to say Jim had no self-control, but Bones had no fucking idea.  Jim was the master-- between a tight pair of briefs to keep errant woodies out of obvious sight and keeping his wandering hands to himself, Jim was a _saint._

 __When the examination was over, Bones had a smirk on his face.  Swinging the metal away, he motioned for Jim to sit up on the regular biobed.  "Alright.  Like I thought," he said, sounding smug, then shone a penlight in Jim's eyes, making him curse.

"Damnit, Bones, warn a guy."

"Infant."

"Jackass."

"Don't move," Bones said, and that was all the warning Jim got before something cold and wet dropped into one eye and things went all blurry.  He jerked, surprised, and Bones grabbed the back of his neck as he growled "I said, Jim, don't move," then did the same thing to Jim's other eye.

Jim blinked the cold sensation away as everything went all blurry and dim.  "What is that?  You know, you could just say 'Jim, I'm giving you eye drops.'" 

"It dilates your pupils.  And maybe I'm a closeted Dom and I take a sadist's delight in the look of disgust and surprise on your face."

Jim snorted-- "Yeah, right.  And Vulcans have retractable penii." 

Bones chuckled.  "I never knew where that one came from.  It's easy enough to look up."

The light shone in his eyes again but Jim couldn't see a damned thing, not with his head all tipped up and Bones shining that light.  All he could feel was Bones' hands on his face and smell his cologne and feel how close he was standing.

Good thing Chapel had told him Bones would probably get the results back today.  He'd put on a cup _and_ his tighty-whities for extra security, since as he'd expected, Little Jim was very happy to be sitting this close to Bones.

"Alright," Bones finally said, flicking the light off and stepping away. 

Jim blinked and tried to focus his eyes on his friend.  It didn't quite work.  "What the hell did you do?"

"I dilated your eyes.  It's going to be a few hours before you can read or really focus again."

"I have to _work_.  It's beta shift, Bones!" 

His blurry best friend smiled and chuckled.  "I already told Janice and Spock you wouldn't be back, you can take a long lunch or a nap.  Hell, go seduce an ensign or something, you've got the wide-eyed thing going right now."

Jim supposed that maybe Bones thought it was what he deserved for making him work his ass off the last couple weeks and maybe he did, but Jim had a bad case of blue balls right now and on top of that he couldn't go back to work?

"I was _working_ on a report that I have to get to Intel by the end of the day.  Now I'm going to have to call and ask for a fucking extension and they've already given me one that I had to ask for because two of my department chiefs couldn't get me the data before and it wasn't even my _fault_.  I didn't know I wasn't going to be able to _see_ , you said the last time it was only going to take a half hour.  I would've put this off 'til tomorrow if I'd known I was going to be out of commission for hours."

"So, Spock can finish."

Jim hopped off the bed and jammed his hands in his pockets.  "Contrary to popular opinion, doctor, there are some things on this ship that the First Officer doesn't have clearance to do, some of them that are for the captain's eyes only.  _Fuck,_ Bones."

He stomped out of Sickbay like the infant he was-- not that he cared.  Pike was going to _kill_ him.

\--

At twenty-three hundred hours, the chime on his quarters sounded.  Jim ignored the melodious beep and kept working.

It rang again. 

He kept working.

The comm sounded.

"I'm working.  Go away," he said, before whomever it was could announce themselves.  "The alert isn't blaring.  Fuck off.  That's an order."

A throat cleared.  It sounded male, but Jim wasn't sure.  Whomever it was finally thought better of whatever it was they wanted to say and said nothing.  Jim went back to work.  He really hated intel reports-- hand-coded indices and bibliographies and all of that shit and he couldn't use the automated programs because it all had to be encoded at the end before he sent it on the special comms channel...

Ugh.  He rubbed his forehead, increased the screen resolution on his computer, and got back to work.

\--

Jim made his way onto the bridge the next morning feeling like he was hungover-- too bad, since he wasn't, just tired.  He'd gotten maybe three hours sleep once he'd finished his report, but he had alpha and it wasn't a shift he could ask Spock to switch because his Chief Science Officer was overseeing something down in the labs and wouldn't be there.  There was nothing to do but go sit in the chair and put up with his pounding bitch of a headache.

"Morning, kids," he said, mustering a smile and suppressing a grimace at the smell of Uhura's coffee and muffin.  He wasn't one of those tightass captains who was all 'no food on the bridge' and all of that shit.  People had to live.  "Anyone break anything interesting overnight?"

"Engineering beat Security in the bowling championships," Chekov noted, perky as ever.  Jim barely avoided averting his eyes.  Jesus, it hurt to just _look_ at the curls today.

"If you don't mind my saying so, you kind of look like nine kinds of shit," Sulu offered.

Jim would have glared but he was too tired.  Instead, he just propped his chin in his hand.  "Yeah, but I finished that bitch of an intel report.  I'm putting those dilatory section chiefs on gamma shift for the rest of the month.  Sons of bitches," he muttered in Russian, Mandarian, then German, Italian, Andorian, Cardassian, Spanish and Klingon, just because he was grumpy and captain and damnit, they _were_ sons of bitches.

Behind him, Uhura didn't giggle because she was dignified.  He supposed she would call it a serene chuckle or something.  _Whatever_.  Jim called it a giggle.

The morning dragged by, and when Lt. Commander Giotto came onto the bridge to take over the helm, Jim was never so happy to see his Security Chief.  "Giotto, buddy.  Tough luck with the bowling, man, I'm sorry.  Those Engineering bastards have superpowers over the rules of physics though, I've never quite figured it out.  Gotta set up a roller derby or rugby league or something so you guys can kick ass good and proper."  He patted the man on the shoulder and was already in the lift as he said "Nothing's up, you've got the con, gonna sleep for like, forty-five hours," as the doors closed on the faces of his somewhat concerned-looking crew.

Whatever.  So long as they didn't sic Bones on him again.

\--

"Presbyopia."

"Tmesis."

"What?"

Jim rolled his eyes and went back to the dregs of his soup.  "You throw a random word out at me, you think I'm not gonna counter?  Tmesis is an awesome word, by the way."

Bones took the chair opposite Jim and set down his tray.  There was a distinct pause before he spoke.  "Presbyopia's the diminished ability of the eye to focus on near objects with age.  The lens hardens, becomes less elastic, and as a result your near reading and fine-work focus is impaired.  The muscles in the eye strain to try to compensate, but the lens is hardened and doesn't work, so it's why you get headaches."

"So.  The older I get, the less able I am to see the stuff that's closest to me?"

Bones nodded, looking annoyed.  "That's what I said."

Jim chuckled, then laughed, then started to howl.  Tears ran down his cheeks as he snorted and giggled and slapped his hand on the table.  The mess, used to Jim's uproarious reactions to the various things Bones would say, paid no attention, other than a few elbow nudges that the captain and CMO were over their tiff and were eating together again. 

"It's not that funny," Bones said.

Jim sniffled, and wiped his eyes on his napkin.  "No, you're right Bones.  It's not funny at all."  He took a deep breath, regarded his friend, and got down to brass tacks.  "So.  How do you fix it?"

Bones smiled, his ' _Have I got a hypo for you_ ' smile.  It was almost as sharklike as the one Sulu got before he kicked Jim's ass during their fencing lessons.  "Just a hypo.  It's a muscle-relaxant, steroid and cure all in one.  Works really well, it just needs an overnight rest period.  You take it before you go to bed, check in with me first thing in the morning, and that's that."

Jim shrugged.  "Sounds easy enough.  Any chance I'm allergic?"

Bones frowned.  "Very few are, but there's an antidote and I've already got it on board.  If that doesn't work, you're going to need glasses, which'll be a pain in the ass, but just for the reading.  Your distance vision is fine."

Jim finished the rest of his soup and looked at his empty tray.  "Okay.  Sounds like a plan."

Bones frowned some more.  "That's it?"

Jim shrugged.  "Sure.  What else do you want me to say?"

Bones seemed lost for words before he finally said "Did you finish up your report?"

Jim nodded.  "Yeah."  He decided he'd better not bitch any more about it than he already had, though-- Bones put up with enough of his whining already, and lord knew he'd been such a brat to him yesterday when Jim should have warned him ahead of time that he had work to get back to.

He pushed back from the table.  "Alright, I'll stop by Sickbay later and pick that thing up, just let whomever's on know that I'll be coming by at some point.  I've got to talk to Scotty about a few things.  See you later, alright?"

Bones looked confused.  "Jim, I'll bring it by when you're going to bed.  You just comm me, okay?"

Jim shook his head.  "Nah, Bones, it's gonna be hours."

Bones set his jaw, so Jim waved his hand like he didn't care.  "Fine, whatever.  But when you're tired and grumpy and didn't get enough sleep and your nurses are all pissed don't blame it on me."

"Comm me whenever you're done," he said, expression grumpy as he leveled his best ' _I'm a doctor, goddamnit, so do what I tell you_ ' glare at Jim.

Jim stood and gathered his tray.  "Aww, Bones.  Just knowing you're going to be sitting around, wondering when I'm gonna comm.  It's enough to warm my Intergalactic Lothario's heart."

Bones snorted.  "Jackass.  Some people don't even read the damned papers, much less believe them."

Jim smiled and balanced his tray as he blew Bones a kiss.  "Love you too, Bones.  Love you too."

Bones bit into his sandwich as he glared up at Jim.  "Get back to work," he mumbled around his PB & J.

Presbyobia.  Fucking hysterical.

\--

When he woke, everything was totally blurry and what wasn't blurry was dotted with spots.  He rolled over and hit the comm plate on the wall. 

"Kirk to McCoy."

"Wha?" 

"Think I'm going to need that antidote, Bones."

"Jesus Christ.  What a goddamned clusterfuck, Jim.  Let me put on some pants and I'll be right there." 

There was a bleep as the comm disconnected and Jim sighed aloud.  He-- and his even more interested morning erection-- really wished Bones hadn't mentioned that he hadn't had on any pants.  He wondered if he'd left a clear path to the bathroom and if he'd hurt himself if he tried to make his way there blind.

With his luck, probably, and explaining himself to Bones in the aftermath would be even more ugly.

He lay there and tried to think hard-on quelling thoughts.

_Keenser.  Admiral Nogura.  Old Spock.  Old Spock and Admiral Nogura.  Klingon Space Opera.  Keenser singing Klingon Space Opera featuring the epic love of Old Spock and Admiral Nogura._

__Yeah.  That'd work.

\--

An unscheduled stop at Starbase Fourteen had the crew feeling ecstatic.  After two months of mapping uncharted space, they were all a bit punchy, and the crew was giddy to have the run of the station for a long weekend.  Scotty was giddy to have the run of the parts depot.  Bones and Jim, though, were both flat-out grouchy.  Bones hovered while the opthalmologist confirmed Bones' diagnosis and prescription, then wrote out the address of an optician on level nine who made glasses and would be able to make a few pairs of glasses for Jim while they were docked at the station. 

"I don't understand why we had to do this right away," Jim groused as they made their way to the optician's shop.

"Because you've had borderline migraines for almost three months, Jim, and maybe you don't think that's a big deal but you've lost five pounds because your appetite's off and your sleep cycles are funny too, from what I can tell.  So pardon me for wanting to get this over and done so you can get on with the next health crisis that's going to turn my hair all grey before I turn forty."

The lift discharged them onto their level and Jim followed the signs while Bones stalked, silent and sulky beside him.  It wasn't like Jim did it on purpose.  They went in and Jim handed over the paper the opthalmologist gave him, then did the requisite small talk, her all aflutter about Enterprise being in and all of that stuff.  The lady seemed nice, cute in an Andorian way, her hair unusually curly.  Jim gave her a smile before he started looking at the nine billion frames she started setting out on the table. 

Crap.  No one told him he was going to have to go _shopping._

 __"Those ones," he said, pointing at the ones in the middle.  Squarish, black, looked like glasses.  They were glasses-shaped glasses, kind of like his hair was hair-colored hair, no matter if the stupid fan magazines called him dirty blond or whatever.  Some people had too much time on their hands.

"Those?" the proprietress asked, shock plain on her face.  "But," she said, then held up something silver-sparkly that looked like it'd break the first time Jim breathed on it wrong.  "These are much more attractive."

Bones grabbed the black frames and jammed them onto Jim's face.  His expression didn't change from its normal, regular scowl before he turned back to the owner.  "They fit, and the kid says he wants the black.  Make up a half-dozen, it's a long time between Starbases sometimes."

Jim tipped his head and looked in the mirror, wondering what it was the proprietress was all bothered about.  They looked just like glasses.  He tried on the sparkly frames she had offered, frowned at how flimsy they felt, and handed the black ones back to the owner. 

"Better make it a dozen.  I'm kind of a klutz."

Bones nodded agreement.  "We'll be back tomorrow afternoon to pick them up."

The proprietress wanted to protest, clearly, but between the fact that Jim hated shopping and Bones hated having anyone question his medical orders, they wrapped up their business in another five minutes after the owner took a few measurements and confirmed credit arrangements.  And then they were out in the hall, watching the traffic go by.

"So.  Lunch?"  Jim asked, looking sideways at Bones.  "They apparently have awesome pakoras on the eighteenth level."

Bones tipped his head.  "Sulu told me there's mini-golf and this place with hot dogs and soft serve on seven."

Jim felt a thrill in his chest.  "Do we know if they have buttercrunch dip?"

Bones quirked an eyebrow.  "Only one way to find out."

Jim slapped Bones on the shoulder and started to run for the lift.  He heard his friend curse about no warnings but whatever-- how long had he known Jim?  He didn't really think he could bring up something like mini-golf and not expect Jim to completely revert.

\--

"Captain, sir, could I bother you for a moment?"  Jim looked up from his PADD in the mess and over his glasses.  Yet another ensign was standing there, interrupting his lunch.  This was getting to be a regular problem. 

"Yes, Tallis, what is it?"

The woman went on to ask the most absolutely inane question of Jim's life.  Patiently, he answered her question, then smiled back when she beamed at him like he'd given her a brand new puppy for Christmas. 

"Honestly, Spock," he said when the woman was gone. "Did we go through an ion storm that turned have the ensigns' brains into mush?  I don't know what the hell is wrong with everybody these days.  I mean, I try to be approachable and all of that shit, but swear to god, I'm never going to get my lunch eaten or my work done in any of the public rooms anymore of this ridiculousness keeps up."

Spock nodded.  "Indeed, I have noted the increased phenomena since our detachment from Starbase Fourteen, most inexplicable."  He bent back to his PADD.

This was what Jim liked (among other things) about Spock-- you really could have a working lunch with the guy.  Observe, comment, get back to work.  Spock raised his head.  "Your ocular equipment seems to have been useful, Jim.  You seem less tired.  And they are not unflattering."

Jim shook his head.  Spock had a way with words, that was for sure.  "Hey.  Thanks.  I think.  Well, Bones was right.  Feel kind of bad, making him jump through hoops a bit, but ..."

"He required the right qualifications and the ship now has a fully qualified opthalmologist."

Jim nodded.  "Yeah.  And no more headaches for me.  Even if these things do slide down all the time."  With a small snort of disgust, he pushed them back up to the top of his nose.  Spock blinked at Jim's gesture before he looked back down at his PADD.  Off to the side, somebody sighed, loudly, but when he looked over, all of his crew were eating their food diligently.

He shook his head and went back to his lunch.

\--

"Captain, I mean, Jim, um, sir, some of the nurses, we're having a book group meeting.  Would you want to come sometime?  Maybe?  Please?"

Jim had been sitting in Bones' office, waiting for his best friend to finish his paperwork and reviewing some of his own, when one of the subordinate nurses stuck her head in apropos of absolutely nothing and blurted her question.

"Um ..." Jim started to answer, only for Bones to growl "We're trying to talk.  Out." and ordered the computer to "shut the damn door."  Of course, Bones' computer was programmed to ignore all the 'damns' and it slid obligingly closed.  The nurse jumped out of the way just in time.

"What was that all about?" Jim asked, perplexed.  "That's the third book club invitation I've had in two weeks.  I swear to god, Giotto and Cupcake invited me to what is apparently a top-secret Security _knitting_ cabal, and now I've got to go because hell, how do you say no to that?  And Chekov, the kid's apparently in charge of the poetry club, which is all fine and dandy, you know I like my Shakespeare and Auden, but he's all into the Russian and Byron-Romantic type stuff and Sulu's all into Korean epics-- stuff I think is just awful.  If I say no Hikaru's going to run me through with his sword and anyway Chekov'll make the sad eyes at me on the bridge all damned day and that would just _suck_."

Jim's glasses took that moment to slide down his nose.  Absently, he pushed them back up, then set back to reading his PADD. 

"Sorry," he mumbled.  "I'll stop whining now."

"You have no fucking clue, do you?" Bones said, and the next thing he knew, Bones was on the other side of his desk, had pulled the PADD from Jim's hands, and plucked the glasses right off his face before leaning in, all snarly and pissed.

"It's these ugly things, which on anyone else would be birth control but on _you_ are so fucking attractive that you've got ensigns sprouting woodies and creaming their panties.  Hell, your asexual crew's going into molt, they're so goddamned confused.  It's the damned _glasses_ , Jim.  You were gorgeous before, but now everyone's walking around all hot and bothered because it's a reminder that ' _oh, yeah, he's not just a good-looking bastard, he's also a genius,_ ' something it's kind of hard to remember when you're doing dumb shit like walking into walls because you're too fucking stubborn to come in and get your damned eyes checked out.  But you-- you choose the ugliest, most boring-ass frames I have ever seen in my life, because you're way less vain than the stupid tabloids give you credit for and you can't be bothered to spend time shopping when you've got a starship to run, and they're trying to get into your pants in new and creative ways that you don't even notice because you don't sleep with your crew, even though I've insinuated on more than one occasion that maybe you do..."

Jim fought for words.  "Somebody _molted_?  Are they okay?" 

Bones tossed the glasses aside and with a frustrated noise mashed his lips over Jim's.

It was _not_ the best kiss of Jim's life, mostly because he was sitting and Bones was kind of half-kneeling, half-standing over him and their faces couldn't quite get at the right angle and Bones just kept pushing in and down at Jim until Jim's chair thunked right into the wall.  With an effort, Jim pushed up out of the chair, disengaging just long enough to get his hands on Bones' upper arms and pull him in closer and _there,_ this was much better, this was the best kiss of Jim's life, Bones' hands grasping his ass and his tongue in Jim's mouth and just-- _yeah_.

Bones tasted like chocolate.  He pretty much thought that he would.  The guy ate enough of the stuff, all 72% cacao too, none of the milk stuff Jim sometimes liked.  Seriously, the cook bitched about how much Jim budgeted for, but it was a small price to pay to keep his CMO happy.

"You taste like chocolate," he mumbled into the side of Bones' face, while Bones panted right under Jim's ear.

"You taste like coffee.  You have got to stop drinking so much," Bones countered.  His breath tickled and Jim suppressed a shudder that went all the way to his cock.

"I thought you didn't approve of big age differences ..." Jim said, because yes, he was a sap when it came to his friend, but he wasn't a fool and he didn't run into stuff headlong so much anymore.

He could feel Bones' cheek flush where it was pressed next to his.  "Yeah.  I might be a bit of an ass."

Jim chuckled.  "More than one kind of presbyopia, huh?"

Bones pulled back and glared a little at Jim-- then chuckled.  "Doesn't mean you're not an ass, too."

Jim smiled and leaned forward, stealing a small little kiss.  "Yep."  He nuzzled the side of Bones' face, where a little mid-afternoon scruff grew, then let go of his arms.  "We gonna keep putting on a show for your nurses or finish this conversation someplace a little more private?"

Bones turned just a bit red, then laughed.  "Private it is." 

Jim found his PADD and saved the thing he'd been working on, then looked for his glasses.  Bones rose from a crouch with the frames in his hand and a sheepish look in his face.  The lenses were cracked.

Jim just shook his head-- he really had been trying to be careful.  "Those aren't a month old."

Bones snorted.  "I know."

Jim smiled.  "Guess you really wanted to kiss me, huh?" 

Bones settled the frames on his face and kissed him until his knees turned to jello. 

"Guess I kind of did."

\--

On their way out of Sickbay, Jim's broken frames tucked over the collar of his gold command shirt, he overheard the sounds of Christine and M'Benga.

"Oh no he did _not_."

"Oh yes he _DID_!"

"You've got to admit.  Those glasses are _fine_."

Bones growled in the back of his throat.  Jim just laughed, grabbed his hand, and tugged him off toward his quarters.  He'd reassure Bones that he wouldn't let the Security guys near him with their knitting needles once he got him in private.  He'd also promise to avoid Chekov and Sulu's poetry club. 

He wondered, though.  Were Spock and Uhura serious about the new vocal group they were starting?  Maybe Bones might want to join.  He had a really good singing voice.  
 ** _  
_**


End file.
